


Illicit Affairs

by lyaspaixao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Magic, Death Eater Hermione Granger, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Protective Draco Malfoy, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Romance, Slow Burn, The Dark Arts (Harry Potter), dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-23 19:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyaspaixao/pseuds/lyaspaixao
Summary: Her fate was decided in the minute she introduced herself to Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.They ruined her life.Not seeking to die as the former 'Golden Girl', Hermione Granger is looking for a chance of winning the war. She doesn't care about good and evil anymore, she only wants to survive. A certain group of Slytherins will sort her out with their side of the war after they discovered her real blood status. Harry Potter won't know what stricked him.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy & Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy & Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger & Theodore Nott, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott & Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 28
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm 16 years old and this is only for fun! Also have in mind that english isn't my first language.  
> ps: my twitter is @thereggieblack  
> Crazy death eater Hermione trope!

The collar of her shirt along with her tie was suffocating her more than the usual, a familiar feeling of anxiety that always made her throat close. It was purely her mind making up that she couldn’t breathe, but her brain was weak. She couldn’t fight the feeling of it, so she learned how to live like this. She followed a tight routine to keep her occupied all the time. It used to work. 

Hermione spent countless hours learning about the most irrelevant things she could ever think of not for the sake of learning, but for the few minutes she could ever stop thinking about her shitty life. Her fate was decided in the minute she introduced herself to Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. 

They ruined her life. 

As she looked to Harry and Ron entering the Great Hall together for their first breakfast as sixth years, her heart began to race in her chest, a rush of anger and despair went through her body. 

All the happiness she could had as a child was stolen from her as a member of the ‘Golden Trio’. They expected her to be the person that would help Harry Potter to win the upcoming war, even if she didn’t want it. The magical community had so much faith in her friend that it made him look like a joke in her eyes, he was just a kid. Immature and unexperienced. 

Most of the times, she felt like she had a gun pressed to her temple when she thought about quitting Hogwarts and go back to the muggle world. 

Leave or die. 

Of course she would fucking die. As Harry Potter’s mudblood best friend, Hermione would be the last person to be spared when the time comes. The Death Eaters wouldn’t kill her off immediately, they would torture her for hours or days. Perhaps they would execute her in the middle of a public square. 

Sometimes, the fact that the Killing Curse was painless and instant death was her only sense of comfort. 

“You okay, ‘Mione?” Ronald inquired while he sat beside her and already poured himself a cup of pumpkin juice. He noticed the copy of The Daily Prophet on her hands and glanced over the tittle. “These filthy Death Eaters are attacking with more frequency now. The Order must be taking care of them.” 

_We’re all going to die because of him, Ron. There’s nothing they can do._

She wondered if she was the only person in the Light side that had a realistic view of the whole situation. They were absolutely helpless. There was no way they could beat someone like Voldemort. That mad man bet everything he had in his cause, and he would do anything to achieve his means. He was a Slytherin with a sharp mind. His chances triplicated when he found such powerful, influential and maniac people just like him. 

Harry Potter and his morals that he likes to consider perfect had no chance against the Dark Lord. This was fixated on her mind by the end of fifth year. 

“You shouldn’t be worrying over Death Eaters outside Hogwarts when there is one sitting only two tables from us,” stated Harry while he took the seat in front of her. 

His rudeness awakens the worst side of her, but she made and effort not to roll her eyes. “Obsessing over Malfoy again? I thought we agreed yesterday that he wasn’t old enough to be a Death Eater.” 

She could see the way his neck vein was pulsing; Harry gets easily annoyed when he’s being doubted. Did he thought she was supposed to trail behind any shit that he puts on the table? 

“Hermione, I know what I heard. He was talking to Parkinson, Nott and Zabini. Malfoy’s one of them.” 

The newspaper on her hands were given to Ronald, who looked like he was much more interested in it than herself. 

“Think by the logical side, be practical. He’s a minor and a non-trained wizard who would have nothing to offer to You-Know-Who besides his family name, but his father already is in charge. The Dark Lord is not stupid, he wouldn’t turn Draco Malfoy into a Death Eater. “ 

By his defined jawline, sharper than the usual, Hermione concluded that he was clenching his teeth with severe force. Ron seemed to catch on the tension filling the air, because he cleared his throat and faced Harry. 

“Mate, are you excited to have a whole free period today? Finally, McGonagall is giving us some rest.” 

Harry just nodded and muttered a quiet ‘yeah’ before he began eating his oat meal. He could be such a bitch when he wanted. She finished drinking her black coffee and grabbed her bag to get up from the table as soon as Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan approaching them. She didn’t fancy interacting with two dull suck-ups. 

Her first class was Potions with Professor Slughorn in the dungeons. They were located in the other side of the castle, so she had to go early if she longed a peaceful five-minute walk. Remembering her conversation with Harry, she spared a glance at the Slytherin table. Malfoy looked dead. 

He had dark circles under his eyes contrasting with his pale skin and neutral features where one day he had a smirk. He was watching his friends talking with no interest at all. The only thing consistent about him was his perfect styled hair and his neat robes. Something about his look of misery made him weirdly attractive. 

Hermione wouldn’t scold herself for this thought. In fact, she came in terms with it very fast. 

When she was done analysing him, his eyes met hers. She expected a sneer or any hint of disgust coming from him – but he didn’t. He just stared back until she reached the door and was out of his eyesight. 

Maybe Harry was right. Malfoy could be a Death Eater. 

*** 

The classroom’s door was open when she arrived. Trying to be polite, she knocked on the door to announce her presence. Professor Slughorn looked up from his table when he heard the sound, and immediately stood up. 

“Welcome to my classroom, Miss...? 

“Hermione Granger, sir.” 

His face lit up at the mention of the name. “Any relation to Hector Dagworth-Granger?” 

She shook her head. “No, sir. I don’t have any magical relatives. I’m a muggleborn.” 

Part of her expected him to retract as she told him her blood status, but Slughorn kept the same friendly smile on his face. “Strange, considering you look an awful lot like him. But let’s hope you have his talent for potions!” 

Hermione smiled back, and he gestured her to pick a seat. She chose one in the first row and he looked happy to see an enthusiastic student. She grabbed her materials that were in her bag and put all on the table. After she organized and ink and her pieces of parchment, Slughorn required her attention on the back of the classroom. 

“Miss Granger, since you’re here, could you please help me put these books on each student working station?” 

“Of course, Professor.” 

They spent the last two minutes until the start of the class grabbing the books that were in an old shelf and distributing them over the empty seats. The last book was old and dusty, but she always appreciated old things. She looked over the pages to see if it was intact, but was surprised with what she found. 

Hundreds and hundreds of notes all over the pages. For an avid student like her, this was a treasure. So, she got the book for herself. 

The students arrived when she finished scanning over the pages, they were filling the classroom very fast. Hermione took her seat again and opened the Advanced Potion-making book on the first page. 

_This book is the property of The Half Blood Prince._

She contained a laugh when she saw the name, who would call himself ‘The Half Blood Prince’? 

She heard whispers and laughs coming from her left side. Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw Lavender Brown laughing at her with Parvati Patil. Apparently, she was the only one sitting alone. If she was being honest, she tried to feel embarrassed but she realised she didn’t give a single fuck. Her thought didn’t last long, because someone sat beside her. Not anybody, an unexpected Slytherin. 

Theodore Nott. 

He put his bag on the table and only after considered. “Do you mind if I sit here, Granger?” 

Hermione tried her best to look unbothered. Did he saw they were making fun of her? This would’ve been embarrassing. “Not at all, Nott.” 

He only nodded and waited for Slughorn to speak. She didn’t dare to look at the back of the class to see his friends probably with confused faces. They just waited for the Professor. Unlike Malfoy, Nott looked alive. Hermione could even say he looked content. He had a permanent grin on his face that along with his dark brown her made him look like sin on earth. She stopped looking before he could notice. 

“Hello, wizards and witches. I am Professor Horace Slughorn and I’m going to teach you Advanced Potions,” he walked around his table. “I had a little bit of talking planned to do, but I think it seems irrelevant right now. Today, I have a challenge for you. If any of you successfully brews the Draught of Living Death, I’ll give you,” he pointed at full vial of a transparent liquid. “Felix Felicis.” 

Hermione could feel Nott tensing and holding his breath as he looked to the vial. Did he want it? Not a fucking chance he would get it. This was her way free out of war. With Liquid Luck, she would survive. 

Slughorn had a peaceful smile, typical of someone who just inflicted chaos. “Open your books on chapter three.” 

She never wanted to thank more a conceited half-blood in all her life. He had tips for a better potion. Another person would’ve ignored it, but she was desperate. Something about the way he wrote things so precisely made her trust his abilities. 

Her cauldron was prepared five minutes later already boiling with standard potioning water as she added the Infusion of Wormwood and Powdered Root of Asphodel. Nott was also doing his own potion on her pace, they worked in sync. Hermione and Theodore stirred two times clockwise and added the sloth brain. 

The Half Blood Prince said she needed to crush the Sopophorus bean instead of cutting it, to release more juice. 

Nott eyed her work. “You shouldn’t be smashing it.” 

“I have my own way.” 

Finally, he said she should stir it one time clockwise after stirring it seven times counterclockwise. It was such a little change that altered the whole potion. For the better. 

She was so focused on her own work that she didn’t notice earlier the way people exploded cauldrons, overboiled them or just messed up the whole potion in different ways. Her, Nott and Malfoy were the only ones good enough to be exanimated by Slughorn. 

His face was priceless when he dropped a leaf on her potion. “Merlin’s beard! This is perfect! You may not be his relative, but you have his talent!” 

_Oh, how her ego was craving for a compliment._

She smiled when she saw a gobsmacked Theodore Nott beside her by her peripheric vision but kept looking to Slughorn. “Thank you, sir.” 

He almost ran to take the vial from his table and put it in her hands. “Use it wisely.” 

Class ended shortly after this, and she made sure to be careful with the vial in her bag. She was walking to Arithmancy when someone gently grabbed her arm. 

“Granger,” Nott started and stopped for a second but she made a gesture for him to be fast. “What do I have to do for you to give me the Felix Felicis?” 

Hermione laughed. “Nothing. I would never give it to you.” 

Nott furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? Because it’s me?” 

She began walking again but he followed her, they had a lot of classes together. “No. It’s just very valuable to me.” 

“Why would you use it for?” 

“Why would you use it for?” She retorted. 

He visible winces. “It’s not for me.” 

“Hmmm what a noble soul,” she hummed while she questioned herself if she should tell him. Maybe just one part, nobody would believe him anyway if he told anything about it. “Have you ever thought of dying, Nott?” 

Everything was quiet behind her for a moment, so she turned around to see him. He was staring at the back of her had. “Why would you ask me this?” 

“Because I’m fucking terrified and that’s my price. Protection over Death Eaters. But you could never give this to me, so I guess your not-so-lucky person will easily forgive you.” 

This time, he didn’t follow her.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get interesting from here!

“Happy Birthday, Hermione!” The Gryffindors cheered in their common room. 

Weeks passed until her 17th birthday on September 19. 

Harry was following Malfoy anywhere like an insolent child, despite her protests. After numerous failed attempts of trying to convince him, Hermione stopped worrying over them. Her friend clearly needed to occupy himself with something. What if Malfoy was a Death Eater? He wasn’t a real threat; she could easily beat him in a duel. 

Self-preservation wasn’t her thing before everything went downhill. Hermione was used to drop her whole life to go help the Chosen One with all the inconveniences he faced because he was too much of an incompetent to figure it all alone. Sometimes she realised she was being selfish, but for the first time in her life, she was doing the right thing for herself. She frequently had to use her Occlumency shields that she was practicing to put her emotions aside. 

Being selfless and acting like a Gryffindor was still an option, she could do both. But looking up to history, Gryffindors and their braveness usually led them to die in a useless manner. They live in a world where courage and bravery are not rewarded, this made Hermione adapt herself. Her days seemed counted and unfairly low at her eyes. 

Her vial of Liquid Luck was lying in the back of her drawer, transfigured as an old book for safe keeping. A paranoid parcel of her brain was convicted that Nott would try to steal it when she wasn’t around. Speaking of him, they hadn’t really talked since last time, just polite conversations during Potions because he refused to sit somewhere else. 

Yesterday, he waited for her in the doorstep of the classroom because they shared the next class. He did this without exchanging a single word with her. 

But now she had something else to worry about. As an adult, a few things would change. Hermione would be able to use magic outside Hogwarts, take Apparition lessons and drink Firewhiskey at Hogsmeade. On the other side of the coin, she had to take care of herself because nobody else would do this for her. The idea itself was draining. 

Hermione had a feeling in her gut about her birthday. 

Looking to all of those faces in the common room, she couldn’t feel happiness. Something that used to bring her so much joy, now made her extremely uncomfortable. Actually, the only person that wasn’t bothering her was a certain friendly Slytherin. 

She bolted to the Great Hall right after thanking everybody for the birthday wishes, it was only ten in the morning of a Sunday. The Gryffindor table was almost empty when the mail arrived. An owl dropped a letter in front of her, and she was surprised to see it came from Gringotts. 

_Miss Granger,_

_Your presence is immediately required at the Gringotts Wizarding Bank for matters of utmost importance._

_Sincerely,_

_Ragnok, the Head Goblin._

What? 

She never had to go to Gringotts other than to exchange muggle money. The Head Goblin sent a letter for her. Nothing good can come of it. Hermione began to panic. The rational and controlled part of her brain tried to convince herself that she did nothing wrong. 

Professor McGonagall let Hermione use the Floo in her office after Hermione showed her the letter. Standing in front of dozens of Goblins, she was nervous. As she walked to the Head Goblin, all of them were looking to her like they knew something that she didn’t. 

“Good morning, I’m Hermione Granger. You sent me a letter.” 

His eyes lit up at the mention of the name. “Oh, Miss...Granger. It’s pleasure to meet you, my name is Ragnok. Let’s talk in my office.” 

His hand pointed to a door in the left side of the entrance of the bank, she nodded and followed him. Her eyebrows raised up in surprise when he opened the door. His office was entirely made of gold, all the minimum details. 

Ragnok sat on the chair behind the table with a poker face that impossible to read. “Take a seat, Miss Granger.” 

Hesitantly, she sat on the chair in front of him. “Am I in trouble?” 

He stared at her for a moment. “This has no precedent because it has never happened before, so I have no idea how to inform you the news. I guess I’ll let you see it for yourself,” Ragnok put a piece of parchment and a dagger in front of her. “Three drops of blood.” 

Wizards' customs were so weird compared to the muggle ones she was used to. 

The dagger cut her finger and let the drops of blood fall. Words began to form on the parchment. 

_Hermione Rosier Dagworth-Granger_

_Parents: Eleanour Nott née Rosier and Baptiste Dagworth-Granger_

Her eyes widened in shock. “What is this?” 

_Godparents: Bellatrix Lestrange née Black and Rodolphus Lestrange_

“We need to talk about your inheritance and titles since you’re of age now, Miss Granger.” 

Hermione shook her head. “There must be a problem, Ragnok. I’m a muggleborn. My parents are muggles.” 

“Miss, if it wasn’t clear until now, you were adopted by muggles.” 

“Impossible.” 

_You know that blood magic doesn’t lie._

She started to sank in the chair while her brain began to absorb the news. The feeling of betrayal was highlighted between the sea of emotions she was experiencing. _Shield your mind, don’t feel, be practical._

Theodore Nott was her brother. Did he hide it from her? 

“Your mother, Mrs. Nott, made me promise to tell you the story when you’re of age. Would you like to hear it?” 

Her hands were shaking but she firmly gripped on the chair. “Yes.” 

“Mrs. Nott had a husband at the time, Thadeus Nott, when she had an affair his Baptiste Dagworth-Granger. She never told your father that she was pregnant. Mr. Nott spared your life when she agreed to give you to muggles, no relation with his family. Your father died short after he brewed a potion in the wrong way, the explosion was fatal. Mrs. Nott was ill a few years ago and suddenly passed away; nobody knows what happened,” Ragnok gave her a look of pity. “Your only living family is Theodore Nott, your brother, and Hector Dagworth-Granger, your grandfather and Head of House.” 

Even with Occlumency, her heart was pounding fast. 

_She gave up on me._

“And what about my adoptive parents? Do they know about this?” 

“Yes, it was their choice not to tell you.” 

The same sting of betrayal. _They deprived me of my origins. They saw me cry for years about being called a ‘mudblood’ and chose not to tell me the truth. They lied to me._

“Now that you are of age,” Ragnok continued. “You may claim the Ladyship of the Rosier family along with all the properties and vaults. Considering you’re older than Nott Junior and Draco Malfoy, you would be the Head of House. As a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you’d have a place in the Wizengamot, if that’s what you wish.” 

Hermione almost laughed. Once a muggleborn, now she was a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. 

“Hector Dagworth-Granger took you as his heir this morning and made you the Head of House. You’ll have access to the propertiess and vaults as well.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why would he do that?” 

“He understands he is old and ill; his time is running out. Actually, he was very pleased to now he had an heir. Mr. Dagworth-Granger lives in Paris and wishes to meet you on Yule break. Do you agree with everything I said?” 

Considerations did not need to be made. “Yes.” 

Ragnok nodded slowly, he didn’t expect this from a witch of her age. He expected anger, sadness, questions, but she didn’t show a single emotion. He wasn’t even sure if he saw her blink. 

“As you wish. The last matter we have to discuss is your name. Would you like to be known as Hermione Rose Dagworth-Granger? 

This question caught her off guard, she liked the name she grew up with. But in some way, she would always be Hermione Granger. 

“Yes.” 

“I’ll take care of everything,” the goblin stood up from his chair. “Well, Miss Dagworth-Granger, let’s go to your vaults to get your Ladyship rings.” 

*** 

The halls of Hogwarts were silent when she arrived, only carrying a bag full of gold from the Rosier vault and her Ladyship rings on her right hand. Ragnok insisted that she took the gold for the rest of her term of Hogwarts. Hermione ate lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and spent the rest of her afternoon buying beautiful robes at Madam Malkins and she even went to Knockturn Alley to buy the books the Half-Blood Prince made reference in his own book of Advanced Potion Making. 

The students were all at the dinner feast, Harry and Ron were probably looking for her. They said they had presents for her. Not that she would go to them now, Hermione needed to drop this bag full of gold on her room. Her hands were trembling in an anxious manner because the news would come out in the morning. Ragnok advised her to give an interview to Rita Skeeter to ‘claim her place in society’. 

How funny it was when Rita called her ‘Miss Dagworth-Granger' and not ‘Potter’s mudblood’. 

This thought made her chuckle and get unfocused from her way until the Gryffindor Tower, causing her to bump into someone. The collision of shoulders was so strong that her hand had a spasm of pain and dropped the bag. 

“Look where you’re going, mudblood.” 

Malfoy. 

Her attention was so directed to the open bag of galleons that she didn’t even apologized, she just hoped he wouldn’t see- 

“What the fuck is this, Granger?” 

_Well, shit._

“Galleons?” She tried to play dumb. 

Malfoy gestured to the amount of gold. “Did you rob Gringotts or something?” 

She picked up the bag from the floor. “That’s none of your business, Malfoy.” 

He shook his head. “Look, mudblood- 

It happened so fast that he didn’t have time to fight, one moment they were three feet away from each other, and then he was pinned against the wall with her wand pressed against his throat. 

“Say that again. I fucking dare you, Malfoy.” 

He said nothing, only smirked and slightly jerked his head back to relieve the tension of her wand. 

Their faces were inches apart. “Since you’re so determined in calling me names, be nice and use the correct one. Lady Dagworth-Granger.” 

His eyes widened. “What?” 

Hermione couldn’t stop her grin, but she dropped her wand from his throat. “I hope you like the first page of The Daily Prophet tomorrow morning.” 

Her pace trailed to the Gryffindor Tower again and when she turned the corner, Hermione saw him stuck in the same place.


End file.
